Brac: Walking in the rural heart of Croatia

David Atkinson takes the old goatherders' trails through olive groves and pine
forests on the Croatian island of Brac.

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Great and small: a grand mausoleum in Supetar

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Brac is good walking country: the harbour at Bol

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Out of the blue: the sandy golden cape of Zlatni Rat beach

By David Atkinson

12:12PM GMT 01 Nov 2010

Dusk over the Dalmatian archipelago. I'm sitting on the terrace of my guesthouse under a canopy of vines, the soft bells of St John's chapel calling in the fishing boats. My hosts, Lidia and Josko Ivanovic, have opened the travarica, a herb-infused liquor, and I'm grazing on dried figs and nuts as we chat about Croatia's changing fortunes since they first opened their rustic, family-run guesthouse in 1967.

"We closed for four years during the Balkan war and went back to the land," Josko says. "But we missed the guests."

"Because we all cook together, I enjoy swapping recipes with our visitors from all round the world," adds Lidia.

But my hosts know that even more changes are in the air for Croatia. The country's bureaucrats are keen to join the EU and replace the native kuna with the euro, while increasing commercialisation of the islands is threatening rural traditions. That's why I've come to Brac, the third largest – but one of the lesser-known – islands, for a grass-roots glimpse of Croatian culture before the inevitable march of progress becomes a full-blown stampede.

Brac is good walking country and, thanks to a mercifully minor role in the war during the Nineties, free of landmines. Sandwiched between Split on the mainland and the better-known island of Hvar, the stony outcrop of olive groves and pine forests enjoys the tortoise-paced rhythm of a typically Mediterranean village. But I'm not here for siestas and seaside. Travelling with Footsteps in Croatia, a small independent tour operator from Britain, I'll be following a series of day walks – some gentle strolls, some more challenging hikes – to capture a late-season feel for island life. The company's ethos is simple and successful: walk with local guides, stay in simple but homely family properties and enjoy a more cultural experience than your average beach holiday.

On my first morning in the fishing-village base of Sutivan, my guide introduces me to Franjo Mlinac, who wrote the definitive historical guide to the area. Crucially, before I hit the footpaths, he offers me some valuable advice. "Turn your back on the coast and head inland to the heart of the island. Brac has a hidden character but you have to dig it out," he says as we sip coffee on the quayside, early-morning sunshine bouncing off the white-stone buildings. "Seek out the burial cairns, the stone-built villages, the caves. They symbolise the true character of these people."

With Franjo's words ringing in my ears, I set out, following an old goat-herders' trail out of Podgazul, from a group of ramshackle old shepherd huts. The autumn morning sun is strong and the going rough over jagged stones, but I love the isolation – it's just me, a guide and the occasional lone sheep straying onto the track.

We duck in and out of the shade of the indigenous Dalmatian black pines, catching glimpses of lizards, and push on towards Vidova Gora, the highest peak on the island, to a soundtrack of cheering crickets.

Water is scarce on Brac and, even though the intense summer heat is subsiding, the holes where water collects on the impermeable rock surface are dry. The green toads, one of the rare examples of amphibians on the island, will be going thirsty on this trail.

We make it to the rocky summit to take in the view over the southern beaches of resort town Bol, including the famously sandy golden cape of Zlatni Rat. Walkers and day-trippers are congregating at the summit café for a fortifying shot of Turkish coffee but I turn my back on the hubbub, wandering down stony trails, the air fragrant with wafts of healing and culinary herbs – rosemary, sage, oregano and more – and wild mushrooms poking their heads through tufts of undergrowth.

That night, after a dinner of grilled fish and an olive oil-laced salad, I settle down in an old-fashioned bed and drift off remembering nights spent at my grandmother's house as a little boy with the same reassuring aromas of lavender and talcum powder.

Over the next few days I explore more of the interior of the island, stumbling across Roman ruins and eating my daily packed lunch of bread, cheese and salami by deserted caves that date from the era of the Illyrians, the island's first settlers in the fifth century BC.

One walk follows a grassy path through olive groves, the trail fringed with fragrant forget-me-nots and soon-ripening pomegranates, through the Dol Valley to Skrip. There, the little ethnological museum recounts the story of the ancient village but more emotive is the graveyard of St Helena of the Cross where the gravestones all have small images of the people buried beneath them and simple dedications.

The last walk takes in three lost-in-time villages – a far cry from harbour-side apartment blocks and all-night clubs. A bus transfers me to the trailhead at Lozisca, where I start walking from under the Baroque bell tower of St John and St Paul, one of the island's Unesco-listed monuments. I head uphill through the cobbled backstreets of the village, following a path to the nearby settlement of Bobovisca, with the waft of wild catmint on the air. From there, as a couple of donkeys look on nonchalantly, I head across country through rough scrubland, taking a less waymarked trail to St Martin's, a 1,000-year-old white-stone church clinging stoically to the hillside overlooking Milna.

As the sun sets, the path drops down to the tiny harbour of Bobovisca na Moru and the statue of Vladimir Nazor, one of Croatia's best-known writers and the first president of the Croatian parliament, who spent his childhood here among the village fishing boats and cypress trees. Over the past few days I've encountered countless stanzas of Nazor's work on plinths, plaques and carvings around Brac, his words shaped by the island's cultural influences, from the Romans to the Slavs and the Venetians.

Nazor once wrote: "Brac an island without history". But he was, of course, being ironic. It offers a rich, cultural take on rural Croatia. But only to those prepared to walk the extra mile to find it.

What to avoid

Try to avoid walking at the height of summer. Temperatures in July and August easily reach 104F (38C) and there is little shade on some trails.

Insect bites – be sure to pack some strong Deet-based repellent.

Being ripped off by taxis. Pay no more than £14 for the ride from the ferry terminal at Supetar to Sutivan and haggle hard for less.

Be careful when buying Brac stone crafts or other items to avoid market-stall hawkers palming you off with inferior-quality goods.